


After

by smol_bird



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Tony Stark, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Presumed Dead, Translation from Russian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-26 17:31:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18721696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smol_bird/pseuds/smol_bird
Summary: “How long has he been sitting there?”Natasha’s voice sounded tired.Steve didn’t even look at her, although he probably should have. She was his teammate, after all, she returned from a dangerous mission, she…Steve couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything beyond hollow.“Since they showed… well, you know what on the news,” Sam answered, just as tiredly.





	1. August 2016

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [После](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18716191) by [Чиф (Chif)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chif/pseuds/%D0%A7%D0%B8%D1%84). 



> Author's notes: I wrote most of this fic last summer (and initially there was a boy, but now it's Morgan), but now I finished it. Some Endgame spoilers, some canon divergence, and a happy ending. 
> 
> Translator's notes: I came across the fic and I knew immediately I had to translate it because I literally fell in love. That said, if you speak Russian, go read the original, I'm begging you - it's better that way. (Also, it's actually insane how many more words the English translation has - Russian really has it easy, what without the articles.)

“How long has he been sitting here?” 

Natasha’s voice sounded tired. 

Steve didn’t even look at her, although he probably should have. She was his teammate, after all, she returned from a dangerous mission, she… 

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to feel anything beyond hollow. 

“Since they showed… well, you know what on the news,” Sam answered, just as tiredly. “To be honest, I’m already past the stage of just worrying about his mental health.”

“Obviously,” Natasha agreed. 

“Wanna talk to him?”

“Last time I tried to talk to him about ‘well, I know what’, he ran off to a different country in a minute and thirty-six seconds. Not exactly effective… and anyways, you’re the part-time therapist here.”

“He won’t answer to me.” There was a quiet rustle of fabric, as if Sam shrugged his shoulders. “He hadn’t moved for the past three days. He doesn’t eat, he doesn’t sleep, he’s just watching the news, or staring into the void when they show something else.”

“Alright, I can try, but…”

“The sniper shot from the building opposite,” Steve said, simply. 

The twenty-second hesitation before confirming the obvious almost made him lose his temper, but Natasha, answered, finally:

“Yes.”

“Which is an office building,” Steve continued. 

“Yes,” Natasha repeated. 

“Someone must have seen him.”

“Possibly, but…”

“I need the sniper.”

“Steve.” Natasha blocked the screen with her body. Not completely – the plasma display on the wall was far too wide for her complexion – but she stood in front of it and looked Steve in the eyes. He noted vacantly that she had dyed her hair and acquired a gash in her lip. “Steve, they’re looking for him, but…”

“This was a man with a sniper rifle in an office building in the middle of the day,” Steve said. “Not a ghost, not a wraith, not even the Winter Soldier. Find him.”

“So you can do what?” Natasha asked darkly. “Kill him?”

“Find out who is behind this,” Steve said. “Too many options. Too many… enemies. Too–“

“Steve, buddy, you need to rest,” Sam said, approaching him. “Come on, let’s go.”

“What I need are the sniper and the names.” Steve got up sharply, and felt dizzy for the first time since the serum.

“You won’t get Tony back doing this,” Natasha warned harshly.

“No,” Steve agreed. “I won’t. Find the sniper, Widow.”

“Okay,” Natasha nodded, pursing her lips.

Steve stared at the screen over her shoulder. The frames were familiar, he saw them dozens of times now – a busy street, Tony, taking pictures with a swarm of schoolgirls, faces skewed with terror, crimson blood on the white T-Shirt with kittens, censored by a bunch of pixels in faux decency, and a shaky camera in someone’s trembling hands. 

Dear god. Tony was bleeding out on the pavement between 106th Street and Madison Avenue, and people kept filming. Tony was dying, and Steve was asleep on the other end of the world, and his heart didn’t stop beating. 

“Steve?”

“Go. Go, both of you, I’m okay.”

He just needed the names.

*

Tony Stark’s life, from his first to his last breath, was spent under the optical sights of cameras. Even longer than that – his funeral was shown live on national television, and Steve could imagine how lost and foolish he would feel there. Still, sitting in a shabby room of another motel he was almost grateful for how lacking the journalists seemed to be in the tact and conscience departments. He wasn’t there, but he almost was. He should have been there, but he wasn’t. All of this was wrong.

So Steve just sat and watched, etching every detail into his memory. 

That the casket was closed, that Pepper looked pale, Rhodey looked distant, and Happy looked ill. 

That crowds of people on the streets hid their faces behind Iron Man masks. 

That the president gave a speech, and that Secretary Ross looked clearly furious over something.

That the old lady next to mournful Vision could easily be recognized as Wanda, and that the kid with tear-stained cheeks who stood a little to the side couldn’t be anyone else but the Spider from Queens. 

That Tony was utterly alone in a wooden crate, and that Steve was sitting in an armchair in a motel on the outskirts of Dublin, and his heart was still beating. 

“Fallen heroes look far more attractive than the living ones. And cause fewer problems.”

Steve didn’t flinch, and didn’t turn his head. 

“Fury,” he said. 

“Rogers,” the man said in return, making himself comfortable in the armchair opposite. “Heard you’re looking for the sniper?”

“You want to help?”

“I want to ask you, politely, to leave it alone.”

“Why?”

“You’ve got far more pressing duties,” Fury said, and Steve found himself clenching his fists. 

“More pressing than the murder of my–“ 

He choked before he could finish the sentence. 

“Your what, Captain?” Fury sighed heavily and waved his hand, waiting for him to continue. Steve didn’t. “Past colleague?” he suggested politely. “Past friend? Past omega to your alpha?”

“Shut your mouth,” Steve said. He had to keep himself from growling. Something furious, beastly, threatened to make its way onto the surface instead of the emptiness, and this something wanted to rip apart the man who found what Steve and Tony had between them oh so funny. 

“Stark is gone,” Fury said, getting up, “but the world isn’t. And the world needs your protection.”

“You think I can protect anyone?” It sounded bitter, although Steve didn’t mean for it to.

“You don’t have a great track record when it comes to personal affairs, but globally it’s not that bad,” Fury shrugged, almost cruel. “You want some advice? Don’t think about Stark, don’t think about Barnes, and do your job.”

“The world needs Captain America, not Steve Rogers,” Steve nodded, and almost laughed. For the first time in the past days. More than that – for the first time in the past three months. 

“Yes,” Fury agreed. “Is that fair to you? No. Will it make your life easier? I doubt it. Will anyone thank you? Hardly.”

“I need the sniper,” Steve said. 

“No, you don’t.”

“You know who killed Tony, don’t you?” The thought came suddenly, but Steve somehow didn’t doubt that he was right.

“I do,” Fury nodded. “But you don’t need the truth, Rogers. Trust me.”

“Why?”

“Faith doesn’t need proof,” he smirked. “You either believe, or you don’t – isn’t that how it works?”

“It is,” Steve agreed. “You, I don’t believe.”

“And I can’t trust you with the truth,” Fury shrugged, and looked down at him sternly. “At least not while you look like a dirty hobo. Go take a shower, get some food, and stop scaring your people. They went after you, and you’re responsible for them.”

“I know.”

“It doesn’t seem like it.” Fury rolled his eye up to the ceiling. “Hill will contact you in a couple of hours, there’s a mission which might need your involvement. Potentially deadly, you’ll like it.”

“You aren’t afraid I’ll jump on the first grenade I find?”

“Not really. I‘m not your nanny.” Fury walked up to the table, picked up a square box which Steve has somehow managed to miss. “Here.”

Steve took it in his hands and winced at the familiar weight.

“No,” he said. 

“Open it,” Fury ordered. His voice didn’t allow for arguments, so Steve obeyed.

Inside, there was a shield. And on the shield, a sticker shaped like the Iron Man helmet, one of the assortment of stationery which Steve found himself buying around half a year ago, and which Tony began to use with exaggerated seriousness in any situation, appropriate or not. There were two words on the sticker, two words written in a handwriting familiar to the last stroke and curl. 

“I…”

“It said for the shield to be returned to you. I returned the shield to you,” Fury said, irritated, and walked towards the exit, his trench coat fluttering behind him cinematically.

“I can’t!” Steve said after him. 

“I don’t give a shit, Captain Rogers. Use it as a dinner plate for all I care,” he answered, and disappeared behind the door. 

Steve looked down at the shield, barely touching it. He ran his fingers over the sticker and found, to his surprise, that the room has a leaky ceiling – the letter “S” was a little blurred in a droplet of water, and his fingers were trembling. 

Steve looked up, searching for the leak, but the ceiling was as solid as they come. 

The problem was him.

*

_Sometime earlier_

“Unsanctioned entrance, boss, my safety protocols are being overridden,” FRIDAY informed him before shutting down. Doors slid open with an almost silent rustle, and a man in black stepped inside the room. 

“You never tried calling and asking for an invitation?” Tony wondered out loud and waved his hand, collapsing a repulsor glove back into a wristwatch.

Fury shrugged and sat down opposite him, and then looked at Tony with that all-knowing gaze, fitting for Professor freaking Dumbledore. 

“Heard congratulations are in order,” he said. “You know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?”

Tony straightened his back, his teeth clenched. 

“You bribed my doctor, Director?”

“First of all, not a director anymore. Secondly, no, just lured one of the Secretary’s men onto my side. Old habits die hard – you’d know.”

Tony narrowed his eyes in irritation. 

“Want to share the info?” he asked.

“You know most of it anyway, and if you don’t, you can probably guess,” Fury shrugged. “The guy’s crazy over supersoldier serum, but he wouldn’t dare prick the Captain with a needle. And now he has an opportunity like that.”

Tony crossed his arms instinctively, leaning back in the chair. 

Yes, Ross wouldn’t miss that kind of an opportunity. Wouldn’t even feel remorse – he hasn’t got the character for it. He decided that that the country needs its own supersoldier factory line for its benefit, and he won’t give it up.

“He’s an idiot if he thinks he can have my child,” Tony said. 

“But you signed the Accords,” Fury reminded him. 

“I don’t remember there being a paragraph about selling firstborns,” Tony wrinkled his nose. 

“There are a few other wonderful paragraphs about threats to civilian lives and taking the enemy’s side. In other words, they’ll frame you, sentence you, and send you to prison. Which I’m not sure you’d even survive, by the way.”

“Don’t try to scare me, Nicholas,” Tony rolled his eyes. “I would love to watch Ross try to frame me.”

“He’s got a plan B. If he can’t frame you, Ross is planning to straight up murder you closer to the date, and hope the kid can still be… extracted. No matter what, you’ll be walking around with a massive target on your back in the nearest few months, putting all your efforts into staying alive. I’m not happy about it.”

“Wow, where do all these warm feelings come from?” Tony whistled. 

“Stop clowning around. Both of us know that you have better things to do than playing catch with Ross.”

“So what do you suggest? A secret mason plot to murder the Secretary of State? Can’t say I’ve never thought about it, but–“

“No,” Fury scoffed, not letting him finish. “He’s a complete moron, but he’s a predictable moron whose plans I know in full. Which is why I’m planning to make a plot to murder you instead.”

“Um.” Tony raised his eyebrows. “Sounds tempting.”

“We’ll murder you,” Fury repeated, “and send you to one of SHIELD’s bases, complete with a lab and all the toys you might need.”

“And how long would I be there for?” Tony snorted. “And anyway, a SHIELD base? You still have those?”

“We have those, and they work in secret, as was always intended. The current director will help you.” Fury nodded, more to himself, as if he was simultaneously leading a difficult conversation in his mind. “He isn’t new to handling you. And you would be there for as long as you’ll have to be.”

“Why don’t you kindly go fuck yourself, Nicholas?”

“I’ll refrain from that,” Fury answered politely. 

“Yeah, I’ll refrain too. Thanks for your offer, but I’ll manage myself, as per usual. I’ve has years to practice being alone.”

“But you aren’t alone anymore, Tony,” Fury said, suddenly soft. “Are you truly prepared to risk it?”

Tony hunched his shoulders, looking down, his fighting spirit gone in an instant. A sunray refracted through the table, illuminating chaotically and infinitely moving specks of dust. The reality of Brownian motion, a contribution to physics made by a botanist and a surgeon’s assistant, which suggested, aside from the obvious, that people should pay more attention to details and specifics. 

Tony could stay right here – Ross didn’t seem to him such an insurmountable problem – but… if just half a year ago someone showed him Zemo and told him that he’ll be the one to ruin the Avengers, Tony would laugh in their face. 

“Does this SHIELD 2.0 of yours have a good sniper?” he asked after a minute’s silence. “They’ll have to try real hard to make it convincing without me actually kicking the bucket.”

“It does,” Fury assured him.

Somehow, Tony didn’t feel too reassured.

*

The reactor-less hole in his chest was so large that they has to insert a plate inside to protect the organs. Which it did very successfully after being hit with a bullet, but the sensations were still hardly pleasant. Tony was also running a real risk of bleeding out, but here he had to trust Nick. His agent, disguised as a waitress of the nearest café, managed to go unnoticed as she injected a toxin into his body. The toxin successfully suppressed his central nervous system to a comatose state, more agents loaded his lifeless body into an ambulance and drove it to the hospital, where yet another agent successfully claimed said body to be a corpse.

And Tony Stark was gone.

*

John Doe was operated on and had a bullet extracted from his chest. His vitals were measured, and, after it was determined that his state is stable, he was quietly taken to a destination unknown.

*

“Welcome,” greeted a very much alive Agent Coulson.

Tony snorted. 

“A carousel of lies,” he said. “How’s the land of the dead, Phil?”

“It’s alright, you’ll enjoy it,” Coulson nodded. “At least you no longer have to speak to people whose company you’ve never liked.”

“You’ve got a point.”

“Daisy will show you to your room and the lab. The things you’ve indicated have already been delivered.”

“Wonderful,” Tony nodded, then turning towards a lady with short dark hair. She gave him a shadow of a smile and gestured for him to follow. 

“I was the one shooting at you,” Daisy bragged when they passed a long corridor and turned right. 

“Clever girl,” Tony sighed. “You’ve been here a while?”

“I was hired as a consultant, and then SHIELD fell apart. Awesome, right?”

“Quality work,” Tony agreed. “When I was hired as a consultant, I just had to start talking to dumbass generals again.”

“Kinda boring,” Daisy nodded. “Here’s your room, Mr Stark. The lab door is right across.”

“Thanks.” 

Tony put his palm against the scanner (seriously, Fury?) and entered the room as the doors slid open. The rooms at the SHIELD base were all standard. He stepped past a fake window, towards a desk which was occupied by a box with his delivered possessions, got an old flip phone out of it almost without having to look, and held it in his hand like a good luck charm. 

He wanted to call, but Steve wrote to call him only if he needs help, and right now he couldn’t help, not really. Tony hid the phone in his pocket and laced his fingers. 

“Well,” he said to the ringing silence, “shower and back to work?”

Obviously, no one answered.

*

“Someone’s gonna start asking questions if my braces keep being updated quite so often.”

“What can I do,” Tony shrugged. “Tell them that my restless spirit possesses you every night and forces you to tinker in the workshop. Everyone who remembers me will believe you.”

“Yeah, right,” Rhodey snorted. “Impeccable plan. How’ve you been, Tony?”

“Alright. Been way more fun since Coulson finally let them ask questions. His kids are amusing, but kinda crazy. Which reminds me – how are my kids?”

“If you’re talking about the bots and FRIDAY, then don’t worry, I’m looking after them. Go down every evening to play ball.”

“You’ll spoil them rotten,” Tony rolled his eyes. “Be stricter.”

“Oh, sure,” Rhodey scoffed. “Vision keeps developing. I suspect he’s meeting up with Wanda in secret.”

“And that’s news to you? She counted the floors with him, but he’s not the kind of guy who holds grudges, so…”

Rhodey pursed his lips and shook his head. 

“Did you really know, or are you just pretending? Although, whatever… Spidey’s feeling down, Tony. Your death really shook him.”

“He can’t have been that attached to me,” Tony argued. 

“You were the one who knew him for three months. For Peter it was far longer. He told me, actually… you remember that time when the Russian started a mad chase around the Expo?”

“I’m not old enough for Alzheimer’s.” 

“Well, there was a kid in an Iron Man mask. He raised his arm at the bot, and you shot from behind and told him he did well.”

“No way,” Tony said, eyes wide. “Don’t tell me that was Pete, that kid was knee-high, it’s been barely… Oh, shit.”

“They grow up so fast. You look away for a moment, they’re already wearing superhero spandex,” Rhodey agreed. “So anyway, I don’t know how to cheer him up.”

“Give him the new suit. Say he can get my advice through it.”

“You can’t tell him you’re alive,” Rhodey frowned. “That’s dangerous.”

“No, but I can be a virtual Tony Stark model with an active life stance. I don’t know, lie to him, tell him I left behind a blueprint of my personality which is virtually the same.”

“Great.” Rhodey sighed heavily. “Okay, I’ll do that. How’s my future goddaughter?”

“She’s growing,” Tony shrugged. “Isn’t really talkative yet, but Simmons claims that she’s feeling well.”

“Well, her daddy isn’t. You watch the news?”

Tony wrinkled his nose. Why? Why did everyone feel the need to always circle every conversation back to Steve?

“I do. Seems to me like he’s doing fine.”

“Really? Well, you’d know better,” Rhodey nodded. “I gotta go. Mr Secretary of State wants a full report on this man who is no doubt very happy with his life.”

“Bet you have a hundred pages on him.”

“Eighty-six,” Rhodey corrected pedantically. “His suit, the battle techniques, the lack of weapons and the newly acquired habit of taking the enemy head-on without a hint of strategy or tactics.”

“Add something about his beard, and you’ll be at a hundred. Talk to you later.”

“Don’t do anything stupid, Tones,” Rhodey asked seriously. 

As if Tony had anything to do at all.

*

Tony almost carried a spoon past his mouth when the flip phone rang and began to slowly shuffle towards the edge of the table in its vibrations. The ringtone was, by the way, just as godawful as he remembered, but that wasn’t the point.

Tony sat on a chair, and the phone rang, and rang, and rang, and… froze, a millimeter away from the edge of the abyss. Tony took it with trembling hands and flipped it open, breathed in raggedly as he saw the expected name on the screen. 

But how could Steve know anyone would answer?

Tony gulped and set the phone aside. 

Call him back? No, he wasn’t ready for that. He wasn’t… he just couldn’t talk to Steve about what happened. Couldn’t talk about what was happening right now.

But his brain couldn’t just get itself together and generate a safe conversation topic. 

The screen blinked and informed him of a voice message. “Play it back?”, the phone suggested with clear mockery despite the lack of an intellect driving it. 

Tony licked his dry lips, pressed “Yes”, and put the phone to his ear.

*

A piece of metal has pierced his hip in a rather fortunate place, without touching the bone – not deadly, but hard to walk. Besides, he definitely shouldn’t be leaving traces of his DNA everywhere he goes. So Steve decided to stay put and then just wipe all the blood with a rug, as Tony always used to jokingly suggest.

“We’ll pick you up in five minutes, Cap, hold on,” Natasha’s voice said through the speaker.

“I’m okay,” Steve repeated, shifting into a more comfortable position. 

“We’ll talk about that later,” Natasha said before hanging up. 

Steve threw his head back, felt the comfortable cool of the concrete wall against it, and took a long breath. 

And then got out the flip phone and pressed the call button of the only saved contact. There was no point in doing this, he knew. It would make far more sense to call Tony’s usual number, hear the recording of the familiar voice on the answering machine for the hundredth time in the past months, but…

“Leave your message after the signal,” an impartial woman suggested after a dozen long dial tones. 

“Tony…”

Steve barely managed to keep his voice from breaking.

“I guess I’m an idiot for leaving a message that you’ll never hear, but… God, Tony… I didn’t think I’d lose you forever. I didn’t… We had our hardships, but we got through them all in the end, together, and I… I thought that this time we will too. It was so naïve and stupid, right? I just assumed that sooner or later you will forgive me… A self-assured moron, that’s what I am.” 

Steve had to suppress the urge not to laugh. He dragged his fingers across his face and continued:

“Tony, I hadn’t told you that I love you in four months. And now it’s useless, I guess, but I can’t do anything about it. I love you, and I wasn’t ready to lose you… Well, you know I’ve always had problems with my past. And you… Tony, you were meant to be my future, why… I’m sorry. Nat and Sam are here, will probably chew me out for the metal bar stuck in my leg. I’ll call again.”

Steve hid the phone.

“Who’re you chatting to?” Nat asked, squinting suspiciously. 

“You’re hearing things.”

Steve got up, leaned against Sam. They needed to go back. But Steve no longer had a home to return tp.

*

“Can you drink that?” Coulson asked without a shadow of judgment to his voice.

Tony swallowed a mouthful of coffee and raised one eyebrow:

“What’s with the prejudice, Director?”

Coulson shrugged his shoulders and evidently decided that it was none of his business. A smart, smart man. Tony was still a little shaken after Steve’s message, and he would probably tear apart anyone who stood between him and coffee. 

“How are you?”

“A strange question. I’m sure agent Simmons runs to you with reports the moment I’m out of her door,” Tony snorted. 

“I wasn’t asking about the physical aspects or the biological processes,” Coulson frowned. 

“Ah. You read a Wikipedia page on how omegas get all sad and sickly and depressed without their alphas?”

Coulson’s facial expression ceased being something that could be described in words.

“Not me, my agents,” he admitted finally. “They worry.”

“Betas,” Stark rolled his eyes. 

“So it isn’t true?”

“I won’t die without Rogers for company,” Tony answered sharply. 

“Good,” Coulson nodded. “But that is still an answer to a question about your physical state which I didn’t pose.”

Tony gave him a disgruntled glare, which Coulson ignored with dignity.

“I’m not depressed, I’m still furious at him. It’s hard to suffer when you’re furious.”

“Whatever you say, Mr Stark,” Coulson agreed, and Tony felt his palms itch.

“I’m furious at him. No, I’m even more furious than before, because he is a complete moron, who… I’m not talking to you about it.”

“Okay,” Coulson said simply.

“This is all idiotic – a soap opera, not real life.”

“Hard to argue with that.”

“And I hate feeling like an abandoned pregnant omega.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“And I’m not helpless. I don’t have to need Steve.”

“You’ll manage, Mr Stark.”

“And stop calling me Mr Stark!”

“Okay, Tony,” Phil said, giving him a shadow of a grin. “Would you like to have direct access to missions of the Captain and his team?”

“Yes. And their equipment too. Can that be arranged?”

“Of course. It will be good not to worry about their safety.”

Tony pursed his lips.

Yeah, as good as ever.

*

“Mr Stark?”

Peter’s voice sounded really unsure. Tony sat up on his bed, suppressed the urge to throw up, and activated the speaker. 

“Hello, Peter.”

“Oh, fuck,” the boy exhaled in shock. 

“Peter,” Tony scoffed. “I’m not the one to police people’s language, but at least finish high school first, and then swear as much as you want.”

“Sorry, Mr Stark,” Peter muttered. “You’re just very… well, real. Do you really know everything that happened? Colonel Rhodes said you do.”

“Apart from the last few days of my original version. The last backup copy was made on the fifth of August.” 

Tony felt like a complete asshole. It’s not like he adopted the kid (aunt May would hardly be ecstatic about that), but lying to him was still difficult.

“Right…” Peter gulped. “Mr Stark, I’m really happy to hear you. Well, I mean, no, not happy, because that means that you’re, well… But I am kinda happy, because I thought I’d never talk to you again, but I’d rather talk to you-you, and not you… well, you.”

“Pete, breathe.”

“I am breathing!” Peter went quiet for a moment. “Mr Stark, you wouldn’t mind if I talk to you sometimes, would you?”

“I wouldn’t, Peter. I’m not exactly busy.”

“Yeah…” Peter exhaled. 

“You wanted to ask something?”

“Can I just tell you the latest news?”

“Go for it.” Tony leaned back and closed his eyes. 

No matter what anyone said, he was happy to hear him too.


	2. April 2018

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Did you ever wonder why Tony would fake his own death?” Rhodey asked. “That’s your daughter. Congrats.”

“Yes, that’s your dad. Look at how… dumb he is, Jesus Christ.” Tony grimaced, watching the screen. Steve, Sam and Natasha (a dream team, for god’s sake) were helping to disarm some terrorists in London. The prime minister wasn’t exactly thrilled, but at least they weren’t getting shot at by the police. Yet. 

“Da!”

“Yes,” Tony agreed. “Your dad shouldn’t have turned his right side to the enemy like that. But he’s a supersoldier, so it’s not like anything will happen to him, yeah?”

“Yeah!”

“You’re a pleasure to talk to, Morgan,” Tony smiled, kissing his daughter at the top of her head.

“The atmosphere above New York has been breached by an unidentified flying object,” said Lola (an AI Tony made specifically for the bunch of agents who were his current hosts, and whose name they’ve decided upon with surprising unanimity via a democratic vote). 

“Is it big?” Tony frowned.

“Not really,” Lola responded, pulling up Instagram stories of the fearless New York citizens on the screen. 

The UFO had a suspiciously familiar shape and was preceded by a rainbow trail. And either it was in such way expressing its opinions in regards to sexual minorities, or it had a direct relation to Asgard and its bridge. 

“Huh,” Tony said. 

“Da?” Mogan looked at him.

“No, I don’t think he can do that. I should…”

The wall in front of them lit up with amber sparks. It was as if the air compressed and then parted, clearing the way for a man in a red cloak, a blue tunic, and with a heavy metallic pendant around his neck.

“Mr Stark,” the man nodded guardedly. “We need your help.”

“Are you trying to sell me trinkets? And who’s ‘we’ anyways? You got someone else with you?”

“Me.” Bruce Banner stepped out from behind the wizard and froze in place, his eyes wide. And then asked in a squeaky voice of a man who is on the verge of freaking out: “You’re officially dead? You have a KID? God, Tony, I’d ask in more detail, but the end of the world is coming, and we need to stop it.”

“Right,” Tony drawled. “The end of the world. Wonderful. Just keep calm, won’t you?”

“I’m okay,” Bruce assured him in much the same tone. 

“So what’s that about an apocalypse?”

“I reckon it would be easier to discuss at my place,” the wizard suggested. “I’m Doctor Strange, for the record.”

“That’s pretty emphatic,” Tony complimented, getting up and adjusting his grip on a curious and not at all scared Morgan to make it easier to hold her.

“It’s not a pseudonym,” Strange clarified primly. 

“Then it’s convenient too,” Tony nodded, entering the portal.

*

It all turned out to be pretty simple – there were six Infinity Stones, created at the dawn of the universe, and each one of them had a unique and immense power. A galaxy-scale psycho with a tendency to collect shiny objects decided to find them all and destroy half the population of all the worlds out there. At that, their little humanity rescue squad knew exactly the location of two: the Time Stone was dangling precariously on the magician’s neck, and the Mind Stone shone bright in Vision’s forehead. Vision’s, who was currently AWOL with yet another magician.

God, Tony hated magic. 

“Who can find him?” Bruce asked. 

Tony closed his eyes.

“I don’t know… Steve Rogers, maybe.”

“Wonderful,” Strange said, stepping aside with a look on his face which said something more along the lines of “We’re all doomed”.

“So call him!” Bruce exclaimed. 

Tony gulped.

“We… listen, you weren’t here, but everything is really… complicated,” he admitted, looking over to where Morgan was stubbornly trying to walk with the help of Strange’s Cloak. 

“Tony.” Bruce touched him on the shoulder. “We’re at catastrophe’s door, and all your squabbles don’t matter right now.”

“He doesn’t even know I’m alive,” Tony said. “And he doesn’t know about Morgan, and maybe you can contact him yourself, and I’ll just…”

“Tony.”

“Fine. But if I call him from this number, he might get a supersoldier analogy of a heart attack,” he warned, taking the flip phone out of his pocket. The phone had twenty voicemails on it – one for each month after the first faithful call. Steve told him all about what had happened in their lives and consistently ended every message with “I love you”, which crushed Tony’s heart into more pieces each time. But Steve was on the run, and Tony couldn’t let the world know about Morgan. Not now, not when the Avengers weren’t together. 

“A flip phone, seriously, it’s a goddamn nightmare,” Tony muttered under his breath, and then suddenly realized that there is strange clamor coming from the streets, panic and screaming. “Uh... Say, Doc, you wouldn’t happen to be moving your hair, would you?”

“Not currently,” Strange admitted, looking up. 

Tony pursed his lips.

“Do me a small favor before we go introduce ourselves to aliens.”

“What favor?”

“Get Morgan to the Avengers Compound. To James Rhodes.”

Strange nodded, swept his hand upwards, and the kid was gone. Tony found in his pocket the glasses he hadn’t worn for almost two years now, and then walked towards the entrance doors, feeling rather than seeing Bruce, Strange and Wong follow. 

“Boss?” the AI greeted happily.

“FRIDAY,” Tony smiled, dashing towards a fallen woman to help her up. “Tell Rhodey to watch his goddaughter. And also to tell the United Nations that an intergalactic war is coming.”

“Consider it done, boss.”

“And inform all emergency services. Tell them to cordon off the street and evacuate the people. Quiet!”

The man who almost knocked Tony over gave him an almost comically shocked look. 

“The apocalypse is here,” he announced in trembling voice. “The dead are walking among us.”

“That’s exactly what’s happening, buddy,” Tony nodded, pointing him in the correct direction. “Run along now.”

Thankfully, he obeyed.

Just in time, too – a bunch of not exactly friendly looking folks suddenly teleported on Manhattan’s 43rd out of a flying doughnut. And Tony’s hands itched to kick their asses.

*

“Hi, Mr Stark!”

“What are you doing here?” Tony bellowed. Call him old fashioned, but he was convinced that aliens and kids should be kept as far apart as possible. 

“Ditched a field trip,” Peter explained, easily dodging a hit. “So what’s happening?”

“Aliens are here to steal a wizard’s favorite necklace.”

“Right... New suit?”

“Yup. Really convenient. Thanks to nanotechnology I can fold it up and keep it in my pocket, which... would be very useful if I had a physical body.”

“Oh, quit the charade,” Peter snorted, making an impressive backflip to avoid getting hit by a falling tree. “I figured out you were alive, like, a year ago.”

“A year ago?” Tony asked, a little shell-shocked. 

“Yeah, when you started snoring mid-conversation.”

“That didn’t happen!” Tony exclaimed indignantly. And then remembered that said “year ago” was around the time when three-months-old Morgan stopped quite grasping the concept of sleep. 

“Yeah it did,” Peter assured with a laugh. “And I’m happy you’re alive, sir. I mean, I was really mad at first, but then I thought you must have had a good reason for this.”

“I did,” Tony admitted. “And I do.”

They both turned their heads to where an unconscious Strange flew past them on his magic Cloak. 

“Shit! Pete, go after him.”

“Yessir!”

Tony followed the boy with his eyes before glancing back at their enemy. 

“Bruce, so you wanna join us yet, or what?”

“I’m trying!” Bruce swore. “But the Hulk doesn’t want to... Goddamnit!”

Tony rolled his eyes. One thing which the Earth was missing this fine day was a capricious Hulk.

*

Steve didn’t immediately realize where the sound was coming from. He hasn’t ever heard this particular phone ring, and the strange ringtone was a surprise, forcing him to look around, searching for its source. But when he found it...

He took the flip phone out of his pocket with trembling hands and opened it with a familiar click, pressing it to his ear. His mouth felt suddenly dry, but he did manage to squeeze out one word.

“Tony?”

“Um... no, this is Bruce.”

It felt as if someone poured boiling water on him. The hope which reared its head up a little got shot down again. 

“Bruce?” he repeated absently. 

“Yes, Steve, Bruce Banner. We’ve got a problem, and we need you to find Vision. He’s in danger because of the Mind Stone, there’s Thanos, he’s a... Listen, you’ll have to trust me, because this will take forever to explain.”

“Where did you get this phone?” Steve asked, trying to figure it out – Bruce was gone all this time, after all, and...

“Tony gave it to me,” Bruce said simply, and Steve clenched his fists around the phone so tightly that the cheap material squeaked in indignation, “but that doesn’t matter right now, because you need to find Vision, or the world’s going to end.”

“Tony’s... alive?” Steve gulped. If Tony was alive and just gave the phone to Bruce so that he wouldn’t have to speak to Steve himself, it would be fine. But he still decided to try. “Could I talk to him?”

“Steve...” 

Bruce’s voice was suddenly really strange, not unlike that of Sam almost two years ago when he, evading Steve’s eyes, muttered “I watched the news, Steve, and... I’m really sorry, but Stark was shot at, and I think he’s de–“. 

“Aliens stole another Stone, and Tony followed them. He’s on their ship.”

“In the orbit?”

“I’m afraid not anymore. There’s no connection... Steve?”

“I’ll find Vision.”

*

Steve returned to the Compound with a heavy heart, but still, as soon as the quinjet dove down through the fluffy clouds he felt the familiar impatience rise up in him – come on, come on, he’s almost home, in a place where people used to want him back.

But Tony wasn’t there. Again. How many times will Steve be doomed to lose and find again the most important people in his life? Which time will be their last? Why was he the one in this vicious cycle?

Tony wasn’t home, Tony wasn’t on this planet, he was somewhere out there, among the endless space straight out of his nightmares, so far that Steve couldn’t help him. 

“Steve, are you alright?” Natasha asked, approaching him and putting her hand on his shoulder. 

“Tony’s alive,” he blurted out. Natasha hesitated, and he felt despair bubble up in his throat. “You knew.”

“I guessed,” she said, evading his eyes.

“And didn’t tell me.”

“I doubt he faked his death for the entertainment factor of it.” Natasha lifted her chin up to face him. “Tony can think whatever he wants about me, but I didn’t do anything that could harm him.”

“And in your opinion, that which could harm him was me,” Steve agreed, leaning heavily against a shelf full of weapons.

“Steve,” she sighed. “You were an enemy of the state on the run, and Tony was a dead man. Each one of you could have harmed the other. And besides, if he wanted you to know... he had your number, didn’t he?”

Steve shut his eyes. Natasha was right, which made it all the more anguishing. 

“Why did Tony fake his own death?” he asked. 

“I already told you,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes ever so slightly, “I only pretend to know everything. But judging by the methods, Fury must have helped.”

Steve gritted his teeth to stop himself from swearing. Of course it was Fury! Wouldn’t be the bastard’s first time. Besides, his phrase about not trusting Steve with the truth suddenly had a different meaning altogether. Back then he figured Tony was murdered by some government official, and Fury was afraid Steve would barge into the White House with a rifle. 

“You ready?” Sam asked, looking at them suspiciously. 

“Yes.” Steve let go of the metal shelf, which already had finger-shaped dents where he gripped it. “Help Vision to... Did you know Tony’s alive?”

Sam bit his lip and wrinkled his nose guiltily, but admitted:

“I figured. The last upgrade to my wings six months ago all but had his signature on it. But I wasn’t sure. And... well, he didn’t just do it all on a whim, and you...”

Steve nodded. 

“Would run myself ragged looking for him and ruin everything?”

“You have to admit, your track record when it comes to maybe-dead-but-not-really-dead people is not the best,” Sam shrugged. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. “Not the best.”

*

On their way to the quinjet Bruce suddenly tripped over thin air and asked Rhodey, his voice suspiciously anxious:

“What about... you know?”

“Pepper and Happy arrived five minutes ago.”

“Oh,” Bruce exhaled in relief. 

“What’s that about?” Natasha squinted. Bruce turned a suspicious shade of green under her gaze, so much so that Steve found himself looking around for danger.

“It has nothing to do with the Stones,” Rhodey said. 

“What about one of us?” 

Steve wasn’t quite sure why she phrased her question like that. Still, judging by Rhodey’s face, it did have something to do with that. 

“I have instructions,” he said, finally. “But for now we have to kick Thanos’s ass. And get to the quinjet before Pepper shows up. She... isn’t thrilled.”

“With what exactly?”

“Mainly with how Tony was alive and she didn’t know. Seriously, she’ll have me drawn and quartered, come on, guys.”

“Good to know I’m not the only one,” Steve mumbled under his breath, almost dragging Vision up the gangway. 

In thirty-seven seconds (exactly as an infuriated Pepper Potts appeared at the door) the quinjet shot up, successfully evaded a dozen fighter jets sent after it by Ross, and set its course to Wakanda.

*

Steve decided that he should focus on concrete tasks.

Get Vision to Shuri. Destroy the Stone. Stop Thanos from bringing about the end of the world. Simple and concrete tasks, that much he could do. 

And then, when everything is over, he’ll have the time to think about the global stuff.

*

But they lost.

*

They. Lost.

*

Steve kept trying to come to terms with it, but he couldn’t. Not when he was standing on the battlefield, one scarily devoid of bodies, yet covered in ash swept up, up, up by the wind, and didn’t know what to do. Not now, clearing the streets of the city he called his home in the aftermath. He never... he couldn’t imagine that a day would come when they lose.

Maybe that was his and Tony’s greatest difference. Tony wouldn’t be surprised right now – after all, he kept telling them all these years that they weren’t ready, that they need to be better, that they need to be together. Would they have won if they were together? Maybe. Maybe not. 

Steve didn’t know. 

But right now, when half the planet was gone in a single snap and the other half was trying to figure out for the third day in a row how to live on without it, he didn’t have much to do besides thinking. At least the streets were busy. The “decimation,” as the remaining journalists have christened it, lead to so many accidents and catastrophes that there was more than enough work for them all. And being around other people made it a little better. 

“Steve?” Rhodey’s voice said through the earphone. 

“Listening”.

“Could you please come back to the Compound?”

“Did something happen?”

“Not... exactly.” Rhodey hesitated. “Just come back.”

“Are there news about Tony?”

“No, but that’s kind of the point. We’re waiting.”

Steve said goodbye to Captain Stacy who was responsible for organizing the clean-up on this street and made his way back to his motorcycle. 

Tony was gone, and that hurt the worst. Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Vision and T’Challa were dead, but at least Steve knew about it. Tony had been on an alien spaceship, and then – in Thanos’s hands. He could have been murdered in the battle for the Time Stone, he could have been turned to ash by the damned snap... he could have been alive and captured. Bruce and Rocket told him enough about Thanos’s “children”, those he picked up on different planets and twisted until they broke in accordance with his ruthless plans. Steve didn’t know which alternative scared him more. 

He entered the Compound in uneasy anticipation twenty minutes later and furrowed his brows even deeper when he noticed Natasha waiting for him at the door. 

“What happened?” Steve said. 

“You should go to the common room.” Her voice was unusually tender. 

“Another secret?”

She shook her head and walked back in. Steve followed. They entered the room just like that, him – half a step behind her. 

Last time he was here was two years ago, but barely anything has changed. Apart from the fact that Rhodey held in his outstretched arms a desperately squirming dark-haired child. 

“Will you calm down?”

“Give Tony! GIVE TONY! GI-I-IVE TO-O-ONY!”

“Jesus, give me strength,” Rhodey rolled his eyes, and then saw Steve. “Ah! Morgan, look who’s here.”

He turned around so it would be easier for the girl to see him, and Steve found himself pinned down by the gaze of wide tearful eyes. 

“DAD!”

Steve flinched and glanced over his shoulder. There was no one behind him, but the girl kept reaching out towards the door. 

Rhodey walked up closer and practically shoved her into Steve’s arms. The girl grasped the fabric of his shirt tightly, hid her wet face in the crook of his neck, and broke down into loud sobs. 

“Did you ever wonder why Tony would fake his own death?” Rhodey asked. “That’s your daughter. Congrats.”

Steve slowly sunk down to the floor because his legs gave out from under him. 

“My god,” he whispered.

“You’re so good at tactfully breaking the news,” Natasha snorted.

“I’m stressed!” Rhodey complained. “You ever try being stuck in a closed environment with a member of the Stark family who’s very unhappy about the fact you can’t give her what she wants for three days straight? And what she wants is Tony. Well... Steve works, apparently.”

“You’ve got a point,” Natasha agreed. 

“Besides, I had Tony’s instructions. If he doesn’t... if he goes missing, I had to give Morgan to Steve. For safety reasons.”

Steve buried his nose in the girl’s messy hair and inhaled. She smelled of Tony. This was his and Tony’s...

“How does she know Steve is dad anyways?”

“Tony showed her some videos,” Rhodey shrugged. “And never shut up about him. Steve, you holding up there?”

“Why did Tony hide her?” Steve asked. 

“Ross dreamt of getting a mini version of you for serum experimentation,” Rhodey explained. “And since you... well, you weren’t available, he’d have to make do.”

Steve hugged the girl tighter despite himself. She exhausted herself with the crying, and her eyelids kept fluttering shut over her tired eyes. 

When they fought each other, Tony was... When Steve swung his shield at him, this girl could’ve... 

Now wasn’t the time to think about that. 

“I think you should put her to bed,” Natasha said. 

“What’s... what’s her name?”

“Morgan,” Rhodey answered. 

Morgan. 

Steve got up, carefully. His body felt giant and clumsy, like in the first few days after the serum, and his daughter squirmed in his arms in discontent. 

Both of them desperately, painfully needed Tony.

*

“No!”

“Come on. Please.” Steve wiped the purée off his own cheek and tried to force at least a little into Morgan’s mouth again. “You need to eat, don’t you understand?”

“No!” She shoved the spoon aside harshly. 

Steve sighed heavily and closed his eyes for a moment to calm down. 

Despite the warmth of their first meeting, Morgan turned out to not be a very well-behaved girl. Yes, she called Steve dad, and she clearly knew what that meant, but she as was stubborn as a mule, never letting herself get distracted or convinced. 

Bucky would call her character shitty, would say that she probably takes after her dad, and to prove his words he would remind Steve of any old fact straight out of his biography books. And then he’d help, because Bucky always had a way with children. A way which Steve evidently lacked. 

“Let’s try a compromise, shall we?” he suggested. “You eat a couple of spoonfuls, and then we can watch cartoons. Come on, look, it’s an airplane, open your mouth wide...”

“NO!”

“Were you the same around Tony, or is it just me whom you hate?” Steve sighed.

“Tony?” Morgan stopped clenching her jaw with all the desperation of a stubborn kid and looked around. “Where?”

“I don’t know,” Steve admitted. “Why do you call him Tony anyway?”

“To-ny,” Morgan repeated with a satisfied grin. 

“Yeah, don’t know why I asked. I miss him too, Mora. I haven’t seen him in so long, and I’m so–“

“Wa!” Morgan interrupted firmly, reaching her hand out to the side. 

“Is that walk or water?” Steve confirmed, blinking in surprise. 

“Wa!” Morgan furrowed her brows angrily and scrunched up her face, showing with her entire demeanor that if she isn’t understood immediately, she’s gonna show everyone exactly what she’s made of. “WA!”

“She wants her bear,” Rhodey said. 

Steve looked around. 

“A bear called Wa?” he asked incredulously. 

“I figured that out through a lot of trial and error,” Rhodey shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. “If I were you, I’d hurry, because she’s starting to go red.”

“Oh, crap.” Steve dashes to a sofa buried almost in full under a mountain of toys, which he and Bruce used to try to distract Morgan from scrutinizing her breakfast. He pushed aside a toy crocodile, then a shark, then a penguin, then a bunny, another bunny, a lion, a monkey, and...

Morgan burst into tears.

*

Steve tiptoed out of the bedroom. Given his build, it looked ridiculous, but Morgan was a light sleeper, and Steve didn’t want to repeat the ritual of “bedtime story, bear, drink, anger, tears, bear” for the third time in a row.

He found Thor and Rocket in the kitchen. 

“Hello, friend Steven,” Thor nodded regally. “Lady Natasha told us of little Morgan. Congratulations! A daughter is the greatest gift.”

“Thank you,” Steve said, feeling familiar despair rise up in him. Every time someone congratulated him, Steve wanted to growl at them, ask them, “Don’t you understand I failed the only thing I was supposed to succeed at?! The perfect alpha, meant to set an example, and yet my daughter was born without me. My daughter could have not been born at all because of me. What exactly are you congratulating me over?” – but instead he just forced a smile and changed the topic. “How are the Asgardians?” 

“Safe and sound, currently where the New Asgard is going to be. I left the Valkyrie there, she’ll take care of them.”

“How about your team, Rocket?”

He shook his head without meeting Steve’s gaze. 

“We didn’t find them.”

“Well, perhaps–“

“Nah. I’m not the one for optimism. They haven’t been in contact, so they must’ve...” Rocket snapped his fingers. “All I have left to do is to find Thanos and claw his throat out.”

“I’ll help you, kind rabbit.” Thor petted his shoulder almost tenderly. 

Rocket glared at him for a moment, but then sighed, waving his paw in the air:

“Yeah, why not.”

“We’ll all help,” Steve promised. 

“Listen...” Rocket frowned at him. “You slow down, Cap. You’ve still got stuff to lose.”

“I...” Steve looked away. “You’re right. It’s just...”

“We all want to get back at Thanos, my friend,” Thor nodded. “We’ll think of something.”

“Sure you will,” Rocket rolled his eyes with a scoff. And then flinched suddenly, dug his paws through the multiple pockets of his jacket before getting out something not unlike a transmitter. “Holy crap!”

“Your team?” Steve asked. 

Rocket ran his fingers over the electric blue projection of a keyboard, glowering at the stream of symbols Steve didn’t understand. 

“Rabbit?” Thor asked curiously, looking over his shoulder. 

“It’s Nebula. She’s another one of Thanos’s daughters,” Rocket said finally. “I sent her our coordinates. She writes that she’s got a half-dead Terran on her. You missing anyone?”

Steve felt his mouth go dry. 

“Who?”

“How would I know?” Rocket snarled. “You all look the same to us. They’re landing in four minutes, so see for yourself.”

“I can do it faster,” Thor said. “Where is Stormbr–“

“An unidentified object has entered the atmosphere,” FRIDAY interrupted, her voice unusually dark. In the last couple of days her mood (if it could be described as such) has been getting steadily worse. “Should I run the “Appointment with Death” protocol?”

“No!” Steve barked, breaking into a run. It was vital for him to know who was on that ship.

*

“We’re almost there, so try not to kick the bucket on the nearest two minutes.”

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a darling?” Tony muttered, trying to breathe steadily and not move. Covering up his wound with nanoparticles was a wonderful idea (if only because otherwise he’d be long dead from blood loss), but they weren’t made for treating injuries, and it’s been more than five days. So right now Tony felt about as good as he did in the wonderful days of palladium poisoning. 

Nebula didn’t deign to answer with much more than a murderous glare in his direction, but Tony wasn’t trying to insult her. She really was a sweet... cyborg?

“The radio frequency is...”

“No need,” Nebula interrupted. “Rocket’s at your Compound, he’ll warn your allies.”

“G-good.” Tony clenched his teeth, suppressing vomit. 

He and Nebula took four days fixing up the Guardians’ ship after a meteor shower. At that, most of the time was spent looking for the required tools among the piles of rubbish and rocks. And throughout it all Tony couldn’t help but think about how Strange saw fourteen million six hundred and five possible outcomes of their future, and still thought it wise to trade the stone for his – Tony’s – life. Which meant that the one successful outcome was relying on his active participation. 

Which meant that he had a chance to get them all back, because they were never dead. Nebula told him that the Soul Stone, despite its name, ironically did not possess the power to actually destroy souls. So all those turned to ash by Thanos were currently residing in the bounds of said Stone and were, most likely, exchanging stories about their lives before “death”. Or not. They’ll tell what they did once they’re out of it. 

But for now Tony had the final round ahead of him: find the way to get everyone back, to locate Thanos, to kick his ass and to take back the Stone, and then perform said way in practice. 

And then, likely, punch Strange in the face to teach him the ever important life lesson of “When your plans are this fucked up, you gotta tell others beforehand.”

“Stay here, I’ll get someone,” Nebula said darkly, and Tony suddenly realized that their ship has landed. 

“Yeah, no,” he shook his head, stubbornly attempting to get up to his feet. His stomach resonated with sharp pain, his organs shifting around as if in a lazy attempt at a dance, and he felt bile rising up in his throat. “I’m not gonna wait.”

Nebula pursed her lips. 

“Is everyone on your planet an utter moron?” she asked, as Tony finally managed to take an almost upright position. 

“We all love to think each one of us is a special snowflake,” Tony informed her. “But if you take into the account the data– Ouch, fu-u-ucking h-hell.”

Nebula kissed her teeth and grabbed him, keeping him from face-planting into the ground, and then threw his arm around her shoulder, generously taking on the role of a crutch. Not even that – Tony was never going to admit it out loud, but she was most certainly almost carrying him. What a woman! He could almost adopt her. 

Just like that they made their way to the gangway and down. By the time their feet touched the ground, Tony had suspicious bright blobs floating in front of his eyes, which were most definitely not just the lights of the Avengers Compound, but he clenched his teeth further and tried to ignore them. The medical bay was within reach, just about... one hundred and twenty-seven meters ahead. He just had to focus on this wonderful pavement, and...

“Is he yours?” Nebula asked suddenly, and Tony looked up. 

“Yeah,” he exhaled. The pain momentarily retreated to the back of his mind. 

Because a few feet ahead of them was Steve. Steve, alive, not crumbled into ash, Steve, whose fate Tony tried not to think about for his own mental stability’s sake, although he kept waking up from an old nightmare with a dead man’s words ringing in his ears. “We lost, Tony. It’s all your fault. Why didn’t you do more?”

“Steve,” Tony called. 

The man gulped and stepped closer, slowly, as if he wasn’t sure he was seeing things correctly. 

“Steve, I...”

Something shifted in Steve’s face, and Tony felt his knees go weak, because the fear and the hope suddenly gave way to love. A completely enamored Steve stumbled forward with familiar determination, so close that there was barely an inch of space between them. 

“Alive,” he exhaled. He lifted his hand up without daring to touch Tony’s cheek, and then laughed in relief. “Tony, you’re... alive.”

“Not for long if we keep standing around.” Nebula pushed Steve away with dark detachment, dragging Tony along. “You got a doctor here?”

Tony chose this moment to finally pass out. Get that, Doctor Strange – chances are, your one-in-fourteen-million-six-hundred-and-five reality probably didn’t involve Tony Stark’s inglorious death via internal bleeding!

*

“His stomach is damaged,” Bruce said as soon as he saw Tony.

“But you can help him, right?” Steve asked. Bruce didn’t answer, instead rushing towards the drawers packed with medicine and tools, getting out everything he deemed remotely useful. 

“When did this happen?”

“Five days ago,” Nebula answered. “He closed the wound.”

“Crap.” Bruce went a little green around the gills and wiped beads of sweat off his forehead. “Put him down.”

“Bruce, can you–“

“I don’t know, Steve! I’m not that kind of doctor, but Tony doesn’t give a shit about that, as per usual. We don’t have time to take him anywhere else, so... it would be best if you left. And you,” Bruce glanced over to Nebula, “stay here. I’ll need help and details.”

“Okay,” she nodded. 

And shoved Steve out of the door.

*

Six hours later Bruce left the impromptu operation room and simply slid down the wall, taking a seat on the floor next to Steve.

“He’s alive,” he said, and Steve nodded. “He might hate me a little after he wakes up, but he’s alive.”

“Why?”

“Remember that time Tony disappeared after he gave terrorists his home address on national television, and they proceeded to blew up his house?”

Steve couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“As if I could forget. I had a lot of news waiting for me when I came back from a mission. I had to ride three thousand miles on a bike, practically without stopping, just so I could yell at him about it.”

“Yeah, well, after all that went down, Tony and I modified the Extremis formula a bit,” Bruce said. “We were just messing about, I promised him I’ll never use it. Lia-a-ar.” 

He rubbed his eyelids tiredly. 

“So he’ll burst into flame whenever he’s upset now?” Steve frowned. 

“Shouldn’t.” Bruce bit down on his lip. “But we haven’t tested the formula, so... Steve, if there was any other way, I’d take it. Given my... situation, I’m hardly a fan of thoughtless risks.”

“I know,” Steve nodded. “He’s alive. That’s what matters.”

“I do hope he’ll agree with you on that,” Bruce snorted. “Nebula’s in there with him, but you can swap places with her if you want.”

Steve nodded again and got up to his feet.

“Thank you, Bruce.”

“You’re welcome,” the man scoffed. “Call me when he wakes up.”

*

Tony opened his eyes.

One wouldn’t think so if one knew anything about his lifestyle, but waking up in hospitals wasn’t a common occurrence for him. If he did, he’d usually be alone, sometimes – with an unimpressed Pepper for company. 

This time the one dozing off on an armchair at his bedside was a clean-shaven Steve, whose chest served as a pillow to Morgan in a pink bunny rabbit onesie, and Tony’s heart swelled with amazed excitement at the sight. Which was, for all its wonders, utterly terrible, because the heart monitor blinked awake and proceeded to break out into piercing shrills, alerting everybody in the nearest vicinity that the patient is a few beats per minute away from a heart attack

Tony ripped the electrodes off his chest in a hurry, but it was too late. 

“Hi,” Steve said hoarsely, barely above a whisper. His hand was resting on Morgan’s back, keeping her from falling. 

“Hey.” Tony licked his dry lips. “How... uh...”

How do you begin a conversation with an alpha whom you loved, then hated, then probably-didn’t-hate but didn’t love-all-that-much, whom you hadn’t seen for three years, and whose child you gave birth to and hid? Tony could swear that neither high school nor college ever approached this topic in sociology classes, and whatever he might have learned in his family didn’t even deserve an honorable mention. 

But the pause drew longer, and Tony was almost prepared to fake another fainting fit if he couldn’t think of anything to say in the nearest second, when Steve finally got up, approached the bed and carefully laid Morgan down next to him, resting her head with a mop of messy hair by Tony’s elbow. 

“She missed you,” Steve said in a whisper and smiled at him.

“Do you hate me?” Tony asked. Might as well start it off with a bang. 

Steve’s eyebrows crept up to his hairline, darker than Tony remembered. He kneeled down right next to the bed so he wouldn’t tower over Tony and firmly said:

“No.”

And then, after a short pause, with a gulp:

“And you?”

“I was afraid I would, but... no.” Tony grimaced. “Don’t know what to do with it all though.”

“Me neither,” Steve admitted. “But I want to. I really want to fix everything.”

“I...” Tony hesitated. He had a dozen answers at the ready. No matter what anyone says, everybody loves imagining how their ex... someone will crawl to them on their knees and beg to take them back, but when it comes to reality... Here’s Steve. On his knees. Not begging, of course, but asking, with that look in his eyes which turned Tony’s entire soul inside out, made him want to comfort, or... “What we never had a point? What if ‘we’ never had a future?”

“Tony,” Steve shook his head, “you can’t think that. Our future is sleeping right next to you. She’s here because we were together. And she... I never thought I could love anyone that much.”

Tony glances to the side. Morgan was frowning in her sleep, as if the fate of all humanity was already resting in her shoulders. And Tong would love to hope that nothing like that would ever happen to her, but... she was their daughter, after all. 

“She... I found out about her existence almost a month and a half after... after the event we’re never going to talk about.”

“Tony.”

“Never,” he shook his head stubbornly. “I’d tell you if I knew earlier. I think. I don’t know. To be honest, the first few weeks I... couldn’t believe it. But even if we knew, would it change anything? You’d still make your choice between Barnes and... the rest of the world.”

“If he was the one who blew up the UN headquarters,” Steve said, frowning as if his jaw has suddenly started aching, “I’d be the only one who could stop him. He’s my responsibility, Tony. I had to.”

“And then he turned out to be all fluffy and innocent, and you couldn’t find a minute or two to catch me up to speed in the airport,” Tony scoffed. 

“That was stupid. I assumed, for some reason, that you’ll follow the orders they give you, even though that was never your forte.” 

“I’d help you,” Tony said. “If you asked.”

“I know, Tony. But I didn’t have the rights to ask, you know that.” Steve looked down. “We’re still not talking about it?”

“No,” Tony purses his lips. “To sum it up, we’re both idiots. So knowing about the precious bean which is Morgan wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“It would have,” Steve said. “I wouldn’t have been able to leave. I’d follow you around the house for two years with a bracelet around my ankle,” he smiled wryly. “It would be amusing.”

“Hilarious,” Tony rolled his eyes, then deciding that they’ve both had enough of this for today. “But it happened the way it happened, and I... want to fix everything too. I think.”

Steve gave him a dizzying smile in return.

“We’ll manage,” he said. 

“That’s all you got, Cap?” Tony snorted. “I expected a more inspiring speech.”

“Give me time, I’ll prepare it,” Steve promised and smiled again. “Besides, I told Bruce I’ll call him as soon as you wake up. And Rhodey, and Nat. They were here every hour like clockwork, we should tell them you’re okay.”

“Later. Let’s just...” Tony shifted his hand a little, enough for their fingers to almost touch, but not quite. Steve nodded, not moving. “I feel great. Which is kind of weird, by the way. Why am I alive anyways? I’m not complaining, but I’m curious.”

“You won’t like the answer,” Steve said softly. 

Tony thought for a moment, running through the possibilities in his mind, and then scrunched up his face. 

“Extremis?”

“Extremis,” Steve confirmed. 

“I’m never trusting my fellow scientists ever again,” Tony sighed heavily. “Although I’d do the same thing. We need to prepare for the battle against Thanos.”

“To avenge the Earth?”

“No,” Tony shook his head. “To bring everyone back.”


	3. May 2023

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The familiar name pricked at his heart with an icy needle, a week-old scene replaying in front of his eyes like a broken record: a half-molten iron gauntlet encrusted with Infinity Stones, and Tony, who no longer looked alive.

“I want a cheeseburger!” Morgan squeezed Steve’s fingers a little tighter. “Dad?”

“We’ll get some for everyone,” Happy told her instead of him, turning in the driver’s seat to face her. “Tony always loved them.”

Steve shut his eyes for a moment. The familiar name pricked at his heart with an icy needle, a week-old scene replaying in front of his eyes like a broken record: a half-molten iron gauntlet encrusted with Infinity Stones, and Tony, who no longer looked alive. And then… he still didn’t look alive, but his body lit up from the inside with Extremis, its abilities stretched as far as they could go. 

“We’ll buy him two,” Morgan decided. 

“But, baby, he isn’t–“

“Two!” Morgan interrupted, her voice ringing with familiar stubbornness. 

“Two it is,” Happy sighed, figuring it wasn’t worth it to start a fight with a kid. “Cap, how many do you want?”

“I...” Steve gulped. “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Dad’ll have two as well,” Morgan said. “Tony says he needs to eat a lot because he has a fast metabolism.”

“Gotcha,” Happy snorted, taking a turn right to the drive-through window. “The boys too?”

“Yeah!” Morgan nodded, grinning brightly. 

Peter Parker and Harley Keener, to Steve’s utter horror, became friends and officially announced themselves to be his daughter’s older brothers. Steve really hoped that Tony had a plan of action prepared for this, a risk assessment and a special fund at the ready to cover the costs of the consequences. For now he had to rely on Bucky and Sam, but those two were at times so distracted by their own squabbles that they could easily miss the second coming of the apocalypse. 

Or would it be the third? To be honest, Steve has kind of lost count. 

“Dad?” Morgan asked quietly when the car turned back towards the main road. 

“Yeah?”

“Tony will be okay, right?”

Morgan looked so much like him. She had his dark hair, his attentive brown eyes, his curiosity and penchant for experimentation. She got her somewhat impressive stubbornness from Steve, but everything else... God. 

“I believe he will be.”

Morgan nodded solemnly, accepting his answer.

“We’re here.”

Steve waited for Morgan to unfasten her seatbelts, offered her his hand, helping her down to the ground, and froze in place when he noticed Helen waiting for them outside the hospital door. 

No. 

No, no, no, no. No. 

“Cap, don’t freak out on me now, I’m not sure how much sedative to use on supersoldiers,” she said. “I wasn’t waiting for you, I just wanted to get some fresh air.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Sorry,” Helen smiled, kissing Morgan on the top of the head when the girl ran up to her. “Sometimes I forget how sensitive you all are. Well, apart from Tony.”

“Not funny,” Steve said with a frown. 

“Yeah, yeah. By the way,” Helen grinned lightly, “please try not to knock anyone over when you run upstairs. We need doctors, not patients.”

Steve felt his breath hitch. His thoughts collapsed into ringing silence. 

“He’s awake,” Helen said tenderly. “And already got on my nerves, so you should take him home as soon as po–“

Steve stopped listening. He scooped Morgan up in his arms and bolted down the hospital corridor, which he managed to do without causing any injuries, but that was mainly because everyone else was wise enough to jump out of their way. Including a ninety-year-old man. 

“Hey,” Tony greeted hoarsely. “I was thinking: a cottage by the lake, BBQ on the weekends, fresh air and all. We can watch the sunset in the evenings, read books by the chimney. A vacation. Retirement? Yeah, probably retirement. We deserve it, right?”

Steve carefully put Morgan back down onto the floor. 

“We can give Morgan your shield, it’ll do as a sled.”

“I lost it,” Steve answered just as hoarsely, tears prickling in his eyes. “I mean, I broke it first, then lost it.”

“Again?” Tony rolled his eyes and then winked at Morgan, patting the space on the bed next to him with his good hand. She dashed to him, immediately climbing into his lap and hiding her face on his neck. 

“Again,” Steve confirmed, coming closer and sitting down on a chair. Tony had a red-and-gold repulsor gauntlet in place of his right hand now. Steve wrapped his fingers around it and bowed down, pressed his lips to the cool surface, barely suppressing a ragged sob. “I love you. You’re an idiot.”

“One chance in fourteen million six hundred and five,” Tony reminded him. “Did you punch Strange in the face yet?”

“I tried,” Steve nodded. “And I’m down for retirement. Someone else can deal with the next big bad... Crap.”

“What?”

“You’ll have to re-make the shield. I want to watch Sam and Bucky play hot potato with it because neither wants to be the next Cap.”

Tony laughed. It was Steve’s favorite sound in the whole wide world. 

“We can do that. Right, Morgan?”

She giggled and nodded, looking up. 

“Happy will bring cheeseburgers. We got you two!”

“Really?” Tony gasped, pulling her closer and kissing her on the forehead. “I always knew I can rely on you.”

Morgan shot him a wide grin in return. 

“Peter and Harley are friends now,” Steve informed him.

“Oh.” Tony grimaced, and then nodded to himself. “Plan B then. A desert island surrounded by force fields, counter-air defense in all directions. Eventually Pepper will get tired of both of them and become the supreme ruler of the galaxy, and then they’ll finally learn to behave.”

“I knew you’d have a plan,” Steve sighed in relief. 

They looked at each other, their gazes brimming with love, but didn’t have the time to say much else: the door got thrown open, almost ripped off its hinges, and a happy, loud, restless and maybe just a tad unruly crowd flooded the room. 

Their family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/N: If you ever think translating stuff will easy because you're fluent in both languages, you're apparently wrong. It is a good exercise to see how languages differ from each other though... Anyways, this was fun! Thanks for reading!


End file.
